Interlude: Goodneighbor
by Lurea
Summary: One shot sequel to Fool Me Once. MacCready flipped another page of the comic book. And said nothing. His shoulders were tight with annoyance, and he couldn't be more obviously attempting to ignore Deacon. Huh. Like that would work. Deacon was pretty good at being both invisible and hard to ignore. To hear Desdemona or Glory talk, annoying was practically his super-power.


Deacon was used to finding shady characters in Hancock's office but this was a new low even for him. When Deacon opened the door, RJ MacCready straightened up from he was sitting on one of the couches and his eyes instantly congealed into ice.

"Question: Does Mayor Hancock have bad taste in men? Oh, I'd call it confirmed." The office was otherwise empty, which was disappointing. He had a message for Hancock. He could give it to Fahrenheit but damned if he'd trust it to that guy. He closed the door behind him with a click.

The other man leaned back in an exaggerated slouch and flicked open the comic book in his hands. Deacon hadn't seen him since that disastrous night in Diamond City a month ago. Wondered what he was doing in Goodneighbor.

"Where is the ghoul mayor, anyway?" Deacon asked. "Or Fahrenheit?"

MacCready flipped another page of the comic book. And said nothing. His shoulders were tight with annoyance, and he couldn't be more obviously attempting to ignore Deacon. Huh. Like that would work. Deacon was pretty good at being both invisible and hard to ignore. To hear Desdemona or Glory talk, annoying was practically his super-power.

"Ooh, the silent treatment. That hurts, MacCready. But you know what would really show me? If you left Goodneighbor completely. Ouch. I might cry, if you did that." Deacon paused. "Any chance of you doing that?"

No response. Deacon walked over to the couch and leaned over the back of it. MacCready wasn't wearing Gunner armor, just snug leathers with a cap pulled low over his eyes. "Grognak. I'm an Unstoppables fan, myself, but to each his own. Mind if I read over your shoulder—you're totally at the best part. 'What is this sorcery? I see shapes forming in the snow.' Wow, nothing gets past Grognak, does it? And naked snow demons, what luck, huh?"

MacCready snapped the comic shut and tossed it onto the coffee table, leaned forward, and rested his forearms on his knees. "Whatever, read it before. So, Deacon...uh...changed your code name yet? What letter comes after D? E? Hmmm, rough. Ecstasy, elegy...Oh wait. Yeah. You look like an Earl."

"Oh, hey, you can talk, go figure," Deacon said, smiling.

MacCready gave him an annoyed look over one shoulder and didn't respond.

"Wait, and you know the alphabet?" Deacon said. He paced to the window and looked out. Dark empty streets. "Wow, I'm totally impressed. Quick test, what comes before the 'A'?" Looked around the room again, paced to the door and then over to the desk. If it weren't for the presence of the other man, he would have sat down to see what he could find on Hancock's computer.

"Hancock's also not in the trash basket, under either of the couches or hiding in the Jet stash. There, I saved you from having to look. Now, why don't you go?" MacCready said stiffly. He came lightly to his feet. The leather pulled up to reveal a line of skin between shirt and pants and of course, at least two belts, plus ammo, typical, Jesus.

"Why don't you go?" Deacon replied. "Important merc like you, you must have something to do or someone to kill, right? The Gunners butchered any more settlements lately?"

MacCready folded his arms and stomped over to the counter and poured himself a shot of Nuka-Cola and whiskey. Deacon allowed himself to stare at his back, the outline of his thighs, instead of keeping a pleasantly distant grin. Stupid jerk in skin-tight leather. MacCready tossed down the shot and held one hand up over his head and ticked off a three count. "Number one, I was here first. Number two, still here first. Number three, blow me."

Deacon immediately got a brilliant idea and wanted to laugh. He was a genius. Oh, this was just too good. Rub the little shit's face in it and get him out of here to boot. He stalked over until he was right behind him, and when MacCready turned around, he grabbed his lapels and shoved him back against the counter. The whiskey bottle rattled and fell over. "Blow you? Okay, sure. And then you-" He poked MacCready's chest with unnecessary force. "Make like a tree and leave."

MacCready stared at him, while Deacon smiled. "I mean, let's be realistic," he went on, shrugging. "It's only, like, one minute of my time."

"You wish," MacCready snapped and Deacon's smirk got wider.

"Oh, really? Is that just talk or you going to prove it?" He leaned closer deliberately and licked his lips. Watched MacCready's eyes drop to his mouth. "Tell you what-you last over three minutes and I'll be the one that leaves. Come before then and-" Let one hand trail down Mac's chest, "And you find somewhere else to hang out in Goodneighbor."

MacCready met his eyes steadily, blue into blue. "Three minutes? Piece of cake. You forget—" he said, tone nonchalant. "I've already seen the show."

"Oh, this will be…Excellent. And I just happen to have a timepiece." Deacon pulled out a stopwatch and wound it. Glanced down at MacCready's groin. "Okay, but seriously, three minutes does not include undressing. Because you and belts have a very serious relationship going on, does ammo know about this? Might cause some problems."

"Shut up, Deacon," MacCready said, yanking the stopwatch out of his hand.

Deacon dropped to his knees and laid one hand across the bulge in Mac's pants, squeezed gently and watched his stomach muscles tighten. Thought smugly, this is in the bag.

"Keep doing that and I'll start the clock," MacCready said, low.

Deacon pulled one belt loose and started working on the second. "Believe me, you'll know when it's time." Unsnapped the leather fly and pulled out MacCready's half hard cock. Glanced up, to see MacCready staring down at him. Held his gaze as he leaned forward. "Start it." Heard the watch click as he licked the head of Mac's cock and wrapped his hand around it and pumped, then sucked, slowly, lingeringly.

MacCready's breath hitched as his fingers clutched at the edge of the counter. He got hard fast, swelling under Deacon's fingers, and making his mouth ache for him.

He started off sucking Mac's cock teasingly, brief enclosures, shallow dips, until MacCready was gasping above him and oh-so-obviously struggling not to thrust. And then eased him deeper, engulfing him, smooth sweet skin, got a slow easy rhythm going, until the first bitter pre-come traced across his tongue. Then he went for it in earnest, opening wide, sucking loud and noisy, and bobbing his head in time with Mac's hip movements. Counting mentally, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine. Pulled loose and glanced up at him. MacCready's blue eyes were half-closed and glassy looking. "How we doing, sport? How much time?" Deacon asked, pleasure curling across his groin.

MacCready swallowed hard and said hoarsely, "One minute."

"Just one minute, imagine that, I could've sworn it was longer," Deacon answered easily. Then he dived forward, and took him in his mouth again. Pulled back, and then deeper, relaxing his throat so that the other man's dick slid down, all the way, until he heard MacCready moan. He ran his hands up the other man's legs and gripped his hips tightly, pinned him against the counter. Hoped that he was leaving bruises, bruises that Mac would see tomorrow, and touch and remember. Fuck. Taste, tongue, swirl, MacCready finally fucking into his mouth, and Deacon added a little vibrating hum, just to show how much he was enjoying this….uh…winning that was, he totally enjoyed winning. He cupped Mac's balls and stroked them.

One of MacCready's hands gripped the back of his neck, making him shiver.

Pulled back and MacCready made a protesting noise and his hand tightened on Deacon's neck. "Time?" Deacon asked, voice rough.

"Oh, fu—fu-uh, two minutes." MacCready's dick was achingly hard, shiny with spit and leaking little droplets of pre-come down the side. He traced the underside vein with a finger, and Mac shivered—which was so fucking infuriatingly hot. Time to be merciless. He leaned forward and took him in until he could swallow around his dick, then deeper still, until MacCready was moaning and making helpless thrusts forward. Sopped up some of the spit with one finger and rubbed it against his hole and pressed. Just began to ease his finger in when Mac cried out and spilled. He sucked and swallowed through all the after-shocks, before easing back off.

MacCready's thighs were shaking and he slowly slid down the counter until he was sitting on the floor. The look on his face was pretty gratifying. The watch in one lax hand was about twenty seconds short of the three minute mark. Deacon wiped his mouth off with his hand and stared at him, flushed, trembling, lips red where he'd bitten them and his stupid pretty cock dangling out of his pants.

Deacon could taste his come in his mouth, and it was so annoying—ly hot. Is it really, Deacon, mental-Dez asked archly. And that—that is just wrong and it helped bring his mind back to the present. Gave him enough strength of will to resist the urge to crawl over and finish undressing the other man so he could fuck him even more senseless, maybe until the jerk started screaming Deacon's name.

"Two minutes, forty seconds, MacCready," he said instead, and picked up the watch. "I win. Big surprise there. So this is the last time I see you in Hancock's office." He stood up and had to take a deep breath and adjust himself. "I'll give you a minute to, uh—" he gestured vaguely. "Pull yourself together." Then he slipped out the door and latched it behind him.


End file.
